


Hold On, Enjoy the Ride

by yogurtgun



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Original Percival Graves, Frottage, Fuck Or Die, M/M, Magic, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Top Credence, fantastic beasts made them do it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-14 08:30:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9170953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yogurtgun/pseuds/yogurtgun
Summary: So for instance, Percival is aware of the fact Scamander had been to Africa and that he’d rid himself of the nundu, but he’s also aware that he’d contracted some kind of beast-induced cold that had made Credence slave over the man and take care of the fort at the same time.Percival is incredibly, wildly, aware of the fact that perhaps it hadn’t been a cold after all.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this tumblr post:  
> http://theapplesweremonitored.tumblr.com/post/155221343368/gravebone-sex-pollenlove-potion#notes
> 
> Thanks to wonderful Apples for betaing!
> 
> Notes:  
> This is a universe alternation in which Grindelwald impersonated someone else, not Percival. Or, you can read it as Credence getting close to rescued Percival, whichever floats your boat.

Five months after meeting the man, and dealing with the mess he leaves behind, knowing Scamander’s schedule becomes an inevitability. He visits every month, preferably right after getting paid, stays for a week, and disappears either south or back over the pond. Percival has yet to learn his source of income.

Tina and Kowalski keep daily correspondence with him. It means that with the other Goldstein around, there’s little to miss in Scamander’s life. Apparently, he’s been all the way down to Chile and then to Madagascar before finding another beast that Percival has to suffer through getting to know. 

Sometimes Percival thinks that getting to know the Goldsteins, and by extension the Kowalski, just wasn’t worth it. Especially considering that Percival gets all this information from Credence anyways. 

Comparatively, the two of them exchange letters in a much slower fashion. Sometimes it’s a week, often two weeks per letter, but what they lack in frequency they make up for in volume. It hadn’t been like that at first of course but Percival still keeps the sparse letters dotted with splotched ink—as if Credence had had the fountain pen pressed to the paper for way too long. 

So for instance, Percival is aware of the fact Scamander had been to Africa and that he’d rid himself of the nundu, but he’s also aware that he’d contracted some kind of beast-induced cold that had made Credence slave over the man and take care of the fort at the same time. 

Percival is incredibly, wildly, aware of the fact that perhaps it hadn’t been a cold after all. 

“Do not—” Percival hisses, pushing himself back into the corner of Scamander’s hut. 

It has a rickety bed inside, a chair that Percival has accidentally broken a handful of minutes ago and a table by the doors next to which Credence stands stock still.

Everything had been great. Scamander and Credence had arrived around noon to New York after five months chasing creatures over two continents and working on the obscurus, and Percival had settled them into his guest room. Credence had been excited to show him all the new creatures and Scamander had been excited to see Tina. It was a compromise. 

Spending time with Credence was enjoyable, wonderful, absolutely lovely until a two foot tall and four feet wide butterfly had bit him. 

The effect had been instant. 

Now, Percival feels like he’s running a fever. His head is heavy and vision slightly blurred, limbs heavy and muscles lax. It’s a hardship to move, to breathe, to do anything that’s not focusing on the hardness between his legs or, more importantly, on getting Credence naked and onto the bed.

“Percival, please, I know what this is. I can help you,” Credence pleads softly. 

It’s strange how much he’s changed in five months. There’s more confidence to him now and he’s forgotten how to slouch. His hair is longer, swept to the side, his gaze isn’t shy anymore. Percival wants him. He suspects, faced with it, that he’s always wanted him. 

“You don’t understand,” Percival insists before his head lolls to the side. He’s too hot, he’s going to burn out of his clothes. 

“I do,” Credence replies. He’s gotten closer somehow despite Percival’s protests and he’s closed the doors behind him. Percival licks his lips. 

“Newt has been bitten as well, remember I told you in one of the letters.” Credence’s soft lulling voice does nothing to calm Percival’s wild heartbeat. Now that he’s so close Percival’s vision sharpens and his whole body is aware of him. He’s sweating, positively leaking inside his pants. His mouth is full of spit, his skin as if hooked to live wires. 

Percival is hyper aware of every step Credence takes.

“You need to go.” 

Credence kneels and shuffles over to where Percival is sitting on the floor. 

Percival wants to rid him of his new vest and shirt, wants to kiss down the column of his neck and down his chest and take his cock into his mouth. He wants to feel Credence’s whole body against his own. 

He feels like a predator ready to attack even though his whole body is relaxed and passive, malleable. He can only whimper when Credence’s hands touch his knees, his hands and his neck. 

“What is happening?” Percival asks.

“Your body chemistry is being affected by the pheromones of the...simply put, butterfly. Most animals go into heat however humans just—feel the urge to procreate for about a three-four days, until it’s out of their system.”

Percival tries to blink away the haziness. It doesn’t help so instead he closes his eyes and leans his head back to the decaying wood. 

“And you helped… Scamander deal with this?” Percival asks.

“N-no, no I’m not—I wasn’t what he wanted. For better or for worse Miss Tina wasn’t here.”

Percival sighs. Why he feels relief he doesn’t know but he doesn’t question it. Probably because he can’t think anything much more outside of the fact that Credence is there, touching him, so— so close that Percival could just reach out and pull him in—

“Credence,” Percival sighs but it’s not his voice. It can’t be, because it’s broken and breathy and needy.

When he opens his eyes Credence’s face has garnered a flush. It colors his ears, his neck, all the way underneath his collar. Percival wants to follow it with his tongue. 

The fact is that Percival needs Credence. It’s in the forefront of his mind. Credence’s hand that still touches his knee is an anchor and a whip at the same time. He wants more, needs more. Only from Credence, just from him, everything.

This is not how he’d ever imagined things to go. Whatever affections he’d had for the boy were to remain his own, shown only by his fondness and woven into words of care sent to the young man. They were to remain unfruitful, bare, and Percival thought he was alright with that. Credence’s journey has just started; Percival knows there’s no place for him in it. His destination is unclear and he may not have one yet, but it is marked somewhere in the future, away from Percival’s direction. 

Whatever affections Credence holds for him would mellow, pass, turn into simple fondness that would eventually be overshadowed by another person, an imagined variable, that would become Credence’s world. Just like Scamander to Tina. 

Percival feels his legs spread when Credence leans, feels the embarrassment heavy inside his chest. 

Credence’s hands go for Percival biceps as if to lift him up. The man even manages it. Percival pushes up, Credence holds him, and it’s good enough for Percival to grab Credence before falling to the bed next to them. 

Credence lands half-sitting on the bed and Percival is on him, over him, a wonderful sensation that begs for more. 

“You don’t understand,” Percival parrots, feeling desperate. He finds strength to hold Credence’s cheeks between his hands, to lean in and kiss him gently on the mouth. 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah,” Percival confirms.

Credence’s eyes are wide, mouth shock still but pink and perfect. When Percival leans in again to kiss him Credence doesn’t fight him. Percival hears his own heartbeat in his ears, feels the tightness of his slacks against his straining cock. Kissing Credence is like breathing and Percival could cry because he’s allowed to do it.

One of Credence’s hands starts going through his hair, wonderful long fingers going down his neck and holding it before reaching for his cheek and holding him there. The other is on Percival’s shoulder, just touching. 

It’s impossible for the kisses not to turn filthy, needy little gasps leaving Percival’s mouth when he starts rolling his hips. He can’t stop himself, not even considering the embarrassment. He’s situated so very nicely between Credence’s legs and when he grinds against him Credence groans into their mouths, prompting Percival to do it over and over again until Credence is hard and Percival is coming into his trousers. 

It’s a shock, Percival’s whole body spasms, and he moans into Credence’s throat. The boy holds him, kisses him, his hands calming fiery bands and for a single moment Percival feels like himself, mortified. 

Then it all too soon disappears because he doesn’t go soft and the need returns with double ferocity. 

“Credence tell me you want this, please please tell me this is okay,” Percival says into his collarbone even as his fingers start unbuttoning the boy’s clothes. They’ve never been so clumsy or hurried but there’s no calmness in him, nothing can make this alright. 

At least, that’s what he convinces himself until he has bare skin under his fingertips and mouth, until Credence’s hand tangles into his hair as he goes lower lower and he hears, “It’s alright, it’s alright I’ve got you.”

Somehow Percival manages to undo Credence’s zipper through his hands shake and take his heavy, hard cock out of his trousers. Percival feels a shiver course through him. It’s impossible not to want to taste him then and he can’t stop so he doesn’t try. The scent, the heaviness of him on his tongue, Credence’s reaction—they’re so gratifying, so arousing that Percival can’t help but grind into the sheets. 

He’s sloppy and he knows it but Credence doesn’t complain. The sounds that leave the boy’s mouth are little hitches between words of comfort. Credence has a need to fill the silence now instead of suffering it and Percival is grateful. 

Suddenly, feeling Credence’s hand tighten in his hair, Percival realizes he needs to get naked. He pulls back, rests his head on Credence’s thigh and with one hand starts undoing the buttons of his vest. Then it’s his shirt, his slacks, and then he’s mouthing at Credence again, feeling the boy’s cock twitch under his tongue. 

“Credence,” Percival says and looks up at the boy that is looking right down at him, looking ruined and beautiful in pleasure. 

“I need—” Percival starts, voice cracking. He can’t move, he can’t and it’s so frustrating. He wants to take his clothes off and prepare himself, he wants to sink down onto Credence’s cock and feel him completely. To conjure slick isn’t difficult, in fact he does it with a twitch of his fingers, but to take initiative is close to impossible. 

“Credence I need for you to fuck me,” Percival says. He almost even sounds like himself. At least until a sudden heat wave crashes over him, rocks through him, and he’s gasping, rocking, searching for release that’s not available. 

For a moment the world spins. Then Credence is gone and he’s tucking himself back into his underwear. 

“Shh, it’s alright,” the young man’s saying—Percival must have whined—and then he slowly helps Percival out of his clothes. His touch is torture. By the time he’s naked Percival is sobbing into the sheets, unabashed and needy, and Credence is running both hands from his shoulders down to his waist. He finally hooks his hands on Percival’s thighs and his hands insist that Percival lifts his hips. He’s displaying himself with his head hidden into his sheets. Percival is afraid how much he likes it. 

“Are you alright?” Credence asks once he has a finger in him. Percival nods vigorously, tongue heavy in his mouth, and rocks back into him. That goes on for a while until Credence’s three fingers are stuffed into him. Despite the inexperience Credence is quick to learn the signs of Percival’s body. He presses all the places that make Percival moan and his fingers are cruel on Percival’s prostate, hitting it, pressing it, holding until Percival starts shaking and then stopping. 

That’s how Percival comes again, four fingers in his ass and Credence’s soft reassuring voice in his ear. 

Percival breathes harshly, face pressed into the sheets and he holds onto his sanity as much as he can. He knows another wave will follow soon and he entertains the idea of the bite never having happened and this happening organically on it’s own. 

He groans when he feels Credence take his fingers out, hears him wipe his hand against the sheets, hears a sigh. 

Whatever Percival had wanted to say leaves his mind when he hears the sound of the zipper. Apologies melt and turn mute inside his mouth, his cock already hard again. The feeling of anticipation overtakes him until he’s stock-still, frozen. 

Credence’s hands are on him again then and he’s saying things Percival can’t understand but what make him feel better regardless. He kisses Percival’s shoulder and says into his ear, “I’m going to enter you now.”

Percival nods. His legs can’t realistically hold him up like this and when Credence slicks himself up and starts pushing in they shake and shake, and Percival fists the sheets under his fingers and moans like a whore. 

The pleasure is overwhelming, dumbfounding, mind altering. It’s not real. It’s never been this good, it will never again be this good and Percival holds onto the feeling, knowing that everything surely must be ruined when he returns to being himself again. 

Credence doesn’t start moving immediately and when he does he’s slow, short, tentative. His forehead is pressed to Percival’s shoulder blade. Percival wants to kiss him desperately. 

“Move, move, please, fuck—just fuck me—” It’s a litany and all he can do is beg and hope Credence will listen to him. The feeling of Credence inside him is so good he wants to feel it later, he wants everything.

A groan from above and then Percival feels Credence’s hands settle on his sides and the young man’s hips finally start snapping. He’s so hard Percival can feel him easily and that too is good. 

Once or twice he strikes Percival’s prostate, and then it gets more and more often because Credence learns so quickly, he’s so good, and he pushes and pins until Percival’s grasping at the sheets to get away but he can’t because Credence brings him back with the strong hold on his thighs.

The torture, the absolute bliss, doesn’t last for very long. Credence is first to come, fucking his come into Percival and the feeling of it, the hiss the moan, the absolutely wrecked sound Credence makes is the only thing Percival needs to come as well. 

Then, because as always it’s his luck, he blacks out.

-

When he comes to Credence is above him, eyebrows knitted together and with something in his hands. 

“Drink,” he says softly and Percival, having no marker other than trusting Credence, drinks. It’s just water but to his throat it’s a blessing. 

Strangely Percival feels quite like himself. He says as much and Credence nods. He’s zipped himself up and cleaned Percival, at least as far as Percival can see, and flipped him onto his side. 

He feel vulnerable like this, ill and naked, depending on someone else. It’s a true and only comfort that it’s Credence. Percival would think this unimaginable with anyone other than him. However it’s distressing how Credence doesn’t touch him now, even avoid it, a stark comparison to what he’d been like before. 

“Maybe we should try to get out of the suitcase and into your bedroom while you’re under control,” Credence voices once he takes the empty metal glass from Percival’s hands. 

“I’m—Credence, I must apologize for this. It’s—while you must feel obliged in some way I assure you that you don’t owe me anything and that you should consider leaving.”

“Do you hate me touching you?” Credence asks after a loaded silence passes between them. 

Quite the opposite, Percival thinks. “No, not at all.”

Credence’s touch on his cheek is tender. 

“I can’t bear the thought of leaving you to yourself. Newt has suffered horribly, and since I’m here I want to help you,” Credence says honestly. There’s conviction in his voice, a certainty born out of knowledge that Percival must not possess. 

Still, Percival shakes with relief. They will have to talk after all of this passes. Percival will have to make amends, will have to fix this. But now all that he really wants is Credence’s hands. 

“Get me my pants,” Percival finally says with a bone weary sigh. “We should try apparating.”  
However long Percival has been out it was long enough for Credence to have folded his clothes. Now the boy just reaches and deposits his pants and underwear in front of him while Percival struggles to get up on barely working muscles. 

In the end he just gets on his underwear before he feels the first pricks of need in his mind. He grabs Credence and thinks about the bottom of the stairs and opens his eyes to find himself there. 

Credence goes first and Percival follows after him. He feels unsteady on his feet and when he climbs out Credence is there to catch him when he sways. 

“Alright?” Credence asks quietly and waits for Percival to confirm before closing the suitcase. 

The pinpricks in Percival’s mind grow and like he’d felt them for the first time, their intensity is quick to overtake him. They’ve made it to the hallway before Percival is feeling dizzy. Thankfully his room is just down the corridor and Credence presses him against the doors once they’re inside. 

He must have wanted something but they end up kissing, grinding against each other, touching everywhere. Percival wants to fall to his knees and have Credence’s cock in his mouth again. It’s his hand instead but that’s good too and Credence is already hard again. 

“Bed,” Credence says and obediently, Percival follows him as much as his limbs allow. He falls on his back and Credence shifts him as he likes it, until he’s kneeling between Percival’s spread legs. 

“Do you—do you want me on my knees?” Percival asks and watches as Credence closes his eyes and breathes out. 

“This is good,” Credence says, a non answer.

Then he’s leaning down and Percival’s hands meet the smooth skin of his back and they’re kissing again. If someone had told him—but no, nobody would. Even he’d failed to imagine the possibility of this happening. Of ever being pressed into his own sheets with his legs around Credence’s hips while the young man peppered hot kisses over his skin. 

“Again,” Percival manages to say even as the room spins. He closes his eyes to ground himself. When he opens them he sees Credence watching him, pale skin unblemished but mouth a startling redness. His arousal hasn’t sharpened the softness of care he’d had before. If anything, Credence is even more considerate. It’s unfortunate that Percival doesn’t need it now. At least, not to be fucked. 

Percival pushes him forward, legs locking on each side. “If you’re going to do this for the next three days you don’t have to constantly ask. I need it.”

Credence considers it. “There’s a difference between need and want.”

Percival snorts softly, and lets his head loll to the side. The doors, the empty armchairs, the nightstand all seem to mock him. They should -- Percival is positively ruined.

“Then there shouldn’t be a problem,” Percival says, feeling his belly flutter when Credence shifts and rubs against his cock. It aches for release. Percival feels uncomfortably wet again though, now that he thinks it, he’s stuffed full of Credence’s come as well. 

He groans at the thought just as Credence grabs his legs. He lifts himself but drags Percival closer, and then very carefully releases Percival of his underwear. 

Then he stops moving. Percival is acutely aware he’s being watched. He spreads his legs, unashamed, and cocks his hips. 

“Come on,” Percival says softly and he watches as Credence trembles with it. Percival has too much heart in this, he realizes. Too much to be left undamaged when it’s all over. 

“I don’t have the liquid,” Credence says, cheeks red. 

“You spread me on your fingers and then fucked me not half an hour ago. You can slide right in,” Percival retorts. He’s surprised at how collected he sounds. Naturally it doesn’t last long. Credence sighs and starts pushing in, holding Percival’s legs by the thighs, and before he even bottoms out Percival is already lost. 

It’s different like this, facing each other. Percival can see the way it affects Credence, when he closes his eyes, when he hisses, when he bites his lip. His words may fail but Percival coaxes him with his body, shifts and allows everything. 

Eventually, Credence finds a rhythm. Percival can’t show him like he wants to, can’t do anything but feel his chest burn from the lack of air, feel the drag of Credence’s cock and shudder whenever he manages to hit a sweet spot. 

Despite it all he manages to crave for more, the itch spreading through his whole body until he’s begging for more, faster, “Credence, please”.

Bliss suits Credence’s face well. He shudders through his release and keeps fucking into Percival like before, heavy breaths falling on Percival’s skin, mouth brushing against his chest. 

Percival holds him close, brushes his hair out of his face, his legs once more wound around the young man’s waist. He’d felt his own release like a distant relief. There’s no real comfort, he will be ready to go in minutes. But what he can is hold his wonderful boy, taste his skin and sweat, his lips, love him. 

Downstairs, Percival hears the door shutting closed. Scamander has returned. 

As always, now that he has to do something it seems as too big a hardship. Instead he speaks quietly, his voice rough and broken. 

“You should go and explain to Scamander. Maybe there’s something he can do to cut this short.”

Credence nods against his chest but neither move. Percival doesn’t want to let go, Credence doesn’t want to stop being held. 

Percival breathes. Just a minute more.


End file.
